


Yale, Lawyer

by perfectpro



Series: Matchmaker [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:57:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one idea that Natalie isn't letting go of.</p><p>--</p><p>Formerly the second chapter of Firecracker, now added into it's own series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yale, Lawyer

Lydia is halfway through a data analysis of the capacitors the department just bought when her phone buzzes. She tries to ignore it, because she has to make sure that they’re calibrated to the right specifications before they’ll be any use in the experiment, but it buzzes again. The only people who double text her are Allison and her mother, and they’re both important enough that she turns away from the computer with a sigh and picks up her phone.

It’s from her mother, who apparently needs to learn when it’s appropriate to double text and make her panic.

_Lydia!_

_I sat next to the nicest young man at Starbucks today. Yale. Lawyer. I showed him your picture and gave him your number._

Taking a moment, she rereads the messages to make sure that she read them right. Because, no, her mother did not just do that. Lydia is almost twenty years old, she doesn’t need her mother trying to get her dates from across the country. Well, not really across the country, considering that he goes to Yale. It’s only two hours away, but the point still stands that she’s perfectly capable of finding men to date on her own.

She tries to stay calm, but she knows it’s not a joke. Her mother is not the type to joke about her dating life, unfortunately. As calmly as she can, she sends a response.

_Mom, you can’t give my number out to strangers._

As if this is something she should have to tell her mother, who gave her such a long spiel on Internet safety that Lydia wasn’t allowed to have her own Facebook until she was fifteen. Well, it meant she avoided the unfortunate phase of using Facebook in middle school, so there were some unforeseen benefits. At the time, though, it had just been a bother. Only slightly aggravated, she goes back to her work, jotting down the voltages over time. 

It’s been an hour before she comes back to her phone, because if she doesn’t get this done today it mean putting off work that she _actually_ needs to get done for another week. And she won’t be able to deal with the guy in the office next to her making patronizing remarks as he tries to disguise his blatant misogyny under worrying about whether she can really handle this sort of work load. And she’s not going to let anyone wonder whether she’s in too deep, regardless of whether she actually might be or not.

It’s not her fault that her graduate student levels her off with too much work to do in an impossibly small time period, and it’s especially not her fault when the machines won’t work because no one has updated the software since the year she was born. With a huff, she writes the final value down and turns back to see what kind of argument her mother is making for this being a reasonable decision.

It’s a simple argument, one word that makes Lydia suppress a groan.

_YALE._

Rapid fire, she doesn’t even try to calm herself down before she’s sending a message and plugging in headphones in an effort to ignore whatever response she garners.

 _Have you forgotten that I go to MIT?_  
  
Because, okay, even if the boy goes to Yale, Lydia goes to MIT and she likes it. It’s hard and stressful and there are more times that she feels the need to rip her hair out than she’d bargained on, but it’s _hers_. It’s her college experience, and it’s prestigious, and she loves it more than she’d ever thought possible. And if she doesn’t date much because she’s too busy with classes and research to bother with boys, that’s her own business. 

She has friends. She has Allison and Kira, and Isaac certainly counts as a friend even if he is trying to get to know her in an effort to make Allison see what great boyfriend material he is. So she has a social life, or she could if she wasn’t so busy, and her mother needs to get off her back about finding the nearest successful boy with eyes and making him take her to fancy restaurants that she won’t actually enjoy. She’s nineteen years old, it’s not like her eggs are about to expire or anything.

Removing the capacitor from the circuit, she goes to check the voltage on the batteries when her phone rings. The ringtone is ABBA’s “Does Your Mother Know”, and Lydia suppresses a reluctant sigh as she sets down the voltmeter and answers the call. This is going to be good.

“Hi, Mom,” she starts, plowing on before her mother can cut her off, “I’m doing fine, thanks. Really busy in lab, though, could I give you a call back?” It’s a weak attempt, nothing near her best, and she can already tell that she’s not going to get out of this one by the way that her mother exhales slowly before beginning.

“Well, I knew you’d be annoyed, but, really, Lydia. He goes to Yale.”

“So you mentioned.” _Twice_ , she thinks to herself, scowling as she jots down the voltage and begins to put the parts of the circuit away. And it’s not that she doesn’t like Yale or anyone who goes there, but she really doesn’t need her mother trying to set her up with some preppy Ivy League kid who’s going to smile blankly at her over dinner until she goes to bathroom and leaves through the window on the second floor.

Look, she’s not proud of some of thing she’s done, but it was necessary at the time. That Harvard prick had it coming, after he’d practically drooled on their waitress while she escorted them to their table.

A long, patronizing sigh, and then, “You didn’t even ask me how I met him. I think you’d be curious, at least.” Natalie waits a moment for Lydia to give in and ask, and when Lydia stays silent to make it clear that she doesn’t care, she goes on, “He’s the sheriff’s son, and he let me sit with him because all of the other tables are filled.”

The way that her mother says it, Lydia has the scene clear in her mind. Tightly packed coffee house, some guy wedged into a corner table, trying to hold down the fort with research papers, and her mother bulldozes him into giving away the seat. She almost feels bad for the guy, but then she remembers that he has her number and might actually use it. All sympathy goes away as she focuses on the first part of the statement. “Wait, he’s John’s son?”

Because Natalie hasn’t mentioned much about John ever since their lackluster date in November, and now things are getting interesting if she’s meeting his kid. Lydia stops and readjusts her mental picture, because maybe the kid did notice Natalie and offer her a seat since he knew her. Wait, no, she only just found out he went to Yale, so they can only have just met. Casting a gaze over the desk, she sets down her papers and leaves a note that she’s out to lunch, because there’s no way she’ll be able to get any work done during this conversation.

“Yes, he’s John’s son. I recognized him from a few of the pictures in John’s office, so I introduced myself. Do you think that I’d honestly give your number to a complete stranger?” Natalie asks, her laugh light and floaty.

It only takes Lydia a moment of thought to come to an answer: yes. “So how often are you hanging around John’s office?” she asks, trying to derail the topic to something that she finds much more interesting than some guppy-mouthed Yale boy who might genuinely believe she could be interested in him.

Judging by the slight ‘hrmf’ noise that Natalie lets out, Lydia keeps her smirk down. “The first date wasn’t spectacular, no, but I think we might try again. We’re going slower, and I stop by to see him occasionally. Did you know that last week I overheard one of the deputies making a crack at him for it, and when I came in the next day that same deputy was on desk duty?” She sounds smug and amused, which is nice.

It’s good that her mother is finding someone, is happy about someone. Lydia smiles gently, because it’s a good sign that things are going slowly between them. “You’ve never thanked me for introducing you two, you know.”

“That’s because I’m never going to. Thank you for throwing the party where your guests tried to turn our pool into Jell-O? Um, no. Do you know how expensive it was to get that filter cleaned?” she asks, a grain of sternness behind the joking façade, and Lydia rolls her eyes. It was the final party of the summer, it had to be big.

She takes her lunch outside, talking all the while about the going-ons of Beacon Hills. There’s not many interesting things, but there never really are. A small spike in wild animal attacks is worrying, though, and Lydia makes a mental note to Google links to forward her mother. “I’m really glad things are going well, Mom.”

Natalie makes a small humming sound of approval. “Things are going well. And please be nice to that boy when he calls you. I told him to wait a few days so that you’d be over the initial anger, but sometimes boys really aren’t intelligent about relationships. If it helps, I’m sure that he’s intelligent in general. He does go to Yale, after all.”

Not this again. “And I go to MIT, or did it slip your mind?” Lydia demands, trying to keep her temper from flaring up. It’s been a nice conversation, she doesn’t need to ruin it. 

“Of course I remember you’re in MIT. The schools aren’t that close apart, I looked it up using Google Maps, and it’s only two hours. That’s nothing, dear, I would barely even call that a long distance relationship.”

“I would barely even call it a relationship, Mom, since the only thing we have in common is thinking that you must be insane for trying to make this happen. Thank you for trying to look out for me, but I can do it myself. Also, please don’t go and give my number out to anyone else without my explicit permission. I don’t want people from random colleges you like to start calling me up without warning.”

“That’s not fair, Lydia, I’m warning you right now. He’ll call in a few days, I’m sure. And I’ll even call his father to make sure that he does it, because I just think you’d like him. He even held his own while we talked.”

“Did he talk, or was it just you sitting there and yelling ‘Date my daughter!!’ while he tried to melt into the tile?” Because Lydia knows her mother, and she knows which is more likely.

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t say anything like that, I just showed him pictures of when I was there for the high school’s spring break. He was very polite, and you need that in a boyfriend. Might I remind you of when Aiden didn’t even wipe his feet before entering the house?” She huffs, and Lydia has a moment of overwhelming fondness as she pictures her blowing her hair out of her face with it before pausing to readjust.

She leans back in her chair, content as she rolls her eyes. “Aiden was a brief mistake, and I knew that at the time. He was fun, though, which is what I was looking for. It’s been two years since that, though, aren’t you over it?” Even though she knows her mom isn’t mad about it, just something to bring up to roll her eyes about.

There’s a brief lull. “Lydia, all that I’m saying is that this is a very nice boy. He’s starting his second year, too, and I just thought it’d be nice for you. You could at least be friends with him, it’s not like I started planning your wedding. He would look good with a blue color scheme, though, and you know that blue makes your skin look fantastic – not that I’m committing you to anything. Just don’t be rude to him, he’s far too sweet to put up with you pulling that attitude,” Natalie reprimands.

“Mom, as much as I appreciate you, I still can’t believe you gave my number out to some guy I don’t even know. Even if he does go to Yale. Which doesn’t make him a good person automatically. Plenty of assholes are at MIT, or do I need to remind you about the guy in my dorm that bitched for a semester because I got a higher grade than him on our first chemistry test? I’m sure there are assholes at Yale, too.”

“And I’m sure there are assholes at Yale, but he’s not one of them. His dad says that he’s a political science major and is considering adding a second major in biology, and I couldn’t help but think about how well you would get along. He’s really very nice, I’m sure you can bond over how controlling you both think I am. He really didn’t expect me to sit down with him and commandeer his phone like that.”

“Commandeered his phone how?” Lydia asks, stretching her legs out and trying to imagine how surprised this kid must have been at her mother encroaching on his space like that. “Tell me you didn’t take his phone and enter my information into it yourself, even you wouldn’t do that.” When he mother is quiet, she gasps. “You did. Mom, that’s totally overstepping boundaries. I really feel like we need to talk about appropriate course of action.”

“Oh, please, I didn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to. He thought you were very pretty, if the way that his pupils dilated was any indication. And you are very pretty, of course, I just thought it was nice! Do tell me if he gives you a call, I want to know what’s going on with you and Stiles.”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Lydia asks before she can help herself.

On the other end of the line, Natalie gives a laugh. “Did I not tell you? His name is Stiles. I’ll talk to John and get a photo to send your way, he’s rather cute too. Lots of freckles for the grandchildren.” She snickers quietly before offering a mild correction. “Not that I’m planning your wedding day. I did mentioned the blue, right?”

Pinching her nose, Lydia bites down on the long-suffering sigh that threatens to break free. “Yes, you mentioned the blue.” Not that it’s relevant, because her wedding colors are going to be mint green and silver, if she ever gets around to getting married. “I’m still having trouble believing that you have such a poor grasp of social interaction that you forced my number into his phone. At least I don’t have to worry about him using it, if you pushed it on him like that.” That might be the only bright spot out of this interaction, all things considered.

“Nonsense, I’ll follow up with John and make sure that he calls you. So worry however much you want, because it’s happening.” Natalie sounds so smug about everything that Lydia contemplates hanging up out of spite. That’s too petty, though, so she stays on the line. “This boy is going to call, and, God help you, Lydia, you are going to be nice to him. At the very least, he’s John’s son and that ought to make you remember you have manners.”

“I’m not going to go out with the son of the guy you’re going out with,” Lydia says instead of commenting on ‘having manners’ or whatever. She has plenty of manners, thank you, she knows how to set a table for a four course meal and the proper length of pearls to wear for interviews. 

A noise makes its way out of Natalie’s mouth before being abruptly cut off. “I’m not going out with John.”

Like that’s actually _not_ going to happen, what with the way they’ve apparently been dancing around each other. Lydia briefly entertains the possibility of calling her mother a hypocrite, and she rolls her eyes. “Sure, let’s pretend that you’re not going out with John. You’re still expecting me to take a call from this boy as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, and it’s not. It’s creepy, Mom.”

“Yale,” Natalie retorts, simple and smug.

“MIT.” Because they’re going to have this argument again, not when Lydia actually has work to get back to. There’s only one way to really get out of the conversation, though, and she wants to groan as soon as it occurs to her. “Fine, I will be polite if he happens to call. Not when, but if. If he calls, I’ll be nice. No promises as to striking up a friendship, though.” God, it’s the last she wants to agree to, but it will get her mother off her back.

There’s a pause, as though Natalie clearly expected Lydia to take some further convincing. She sighs happily, though, and then declares, “So it’s settled! Wonderful! I have to go, but tell Stiles I say hi!”

Lydia makes a sound that’s almost a snarl before she coerces it back into something civilized, but Natalie has hung up long before she manages to say her goodbye. That’s so typical of her, to hang up as soon as she’s gotten what she wants in fear that Lydia will change her mind once again. Not that she’s unjustified, but still. Face pinched, Lydia throws her take-out container away and tries to accept the small defeat.


End file.
